Last Flame
by Alatariel Narmolanya
Summary: The Norgaran or the Firebirds have long been missing from Arda, or only a few dwell on these lands. They have been long forgotten from the written scrolls, and only a few know of them including Legolas. However, Aragorn makes a tragic mistake...


_Birthday Challenge Summary: Must include this paragraph in one of the chapter(s). "Estel (Aragorn) stared at his friend(s), the one(s) he cared for, the one(s) he loved. And now this? How was it possible? Legolas was looking at him with nothing but pute hate in his eyes. (With or without the sentence of "Arwen was staring at him like he was insane.") And then it all clicked. Everything." Characters: At least Aragorn and Legolas. Arwen preferred. _

_

Dedicated to Erin N. (Alatariel). 

__Aur onnad meren, _ Alatariel! 

** Last Flame **

Chapter One - Legends 

"Surely you jest, Legolas? A bird made of fire?" Aragorn skeptically looked over at the Sindar Elf, riding beside him on his mare. Winter was here, and while the Ranger was slightly shivering with the cold, Legolas did not seem to be affected at all. "If that had not come from your own tongue, I would have not believed it. Yet _because_ it came from your tongue, I do not believe it, at least not quite."

"It is true," Legolas argued. "It is written in the Sindar history, or at least the part where many people forgot. The Firebirds - or called the _ Norgaran_ in Sindarin, translated to red flame in the Common Tongue - used to dwell in both Arda and Valinor a long time ago. Alas, only a few dwell in Arda today, but I do not know they are as scarce in Valinor. I should hope not. It is said they are - or were - a wonderful sight to behold."

"Tell me more about them, _mellon nin._"

"The _Norgaran_ were great birds, 'made of fire,' as you say. Indeed they were, actually. Their feathers could burn one's fingers if he was not careful, and they are to be the most beautiful in all the birds' plumage: scarlet and golden, still yet always dancing like fire at the same time. They were about the size of a swan, and looked one, yet they had a nobler air. It is said that they are the brothers of the Eagles and Gwindor the Wind Lord." Legolas did have a wistful look, and Aragorn listened eagerly. This was one legend - or tale - that he had not heard before, and he was normally curious.

"They had special abilities which were granted to them by Iluvatar and the Valar. They lived forever, yet they died also. For when they were fatally wounded or close to 'death,' they would cover themselves up in their own fire until they became ashes."

"They brought their own death upon them?"

"Nay, and yes. For they were reborn out of their own ashes, sent from the Mandos' Halls only a few hours after. It is rather a sad tale, for Mandos felt that they had betrayed him once. It is not known if it is true or not. The _Norgaran_, however, had failed to help out Mandos in the battles where many were killed. Although others forgave them, Mandos felt that the _Norgaran_ had a specific reason why they had not shown themselves. Thus Mandos refused to accept them in his Halls. But he gives life source and food back to them, for the journey back. It is both a blessing and a curse to the _Norgaran._

"They also had great healing skills. For their song could pierce any heart with sorrow or joy, and even the slightest of their tears could heal any would except for death itself. Their feathers could revive a dead one only if he had been gone for a few moments, not an hour. Yet more and more they chose not to revive the people, because their bitterness of their gift and curse remained upon them."

"Why are there so few in Arda nowadays?"

"None knows for sure. But one certain _Norgaran_ is said to have aided Gil-Galad in his battle. Gil-Galad treated him with much reverence, although that part of the tale is lost today. Yet the _Norgaran_ - named Norgalad, Fiery Radiance, in Sindarin - died in one of the battles by an arrow wound in the eye. Pity, for she had been one of the last of her kinds. (There are many types of _Norgaran._)"

"Was she not reborn?"

"Nay. For a certain spell had blocked her from the curse and the blessing.

_Fire spring up from the ashes,  
So do the Norgaran fly,  
Yet when fire embraces ice  
And water meets the sky,  
A friend's heart broken,  
A dying star flies,  
The Norgaran do fly,  
Nay, no more, the Norgaran._.

Or so do the tales go. It is said at that battle - fought by the shore of the sea - the winter struck them all hard and all was covered with ice, including the battle fires and the torches. So the _fire embraces ice._ The water met the sky when one of the creatures of the deep spurted, bringing forth help and signal from the Wind Lords, who had known the creatures of the deep back then. _And the water meets the sky._ It is also said that a shooting star fell before the battle. _A dying star flies._ But I do not know about a _friend's heart broken._ Perhaps it was Gil-Galad's heart for Norgalad. I am not sure."

"Perhaps," Aragorn said. "A lively tale, to be sure, Legolas. Tell me, have you ever seen a _Norgaran?_"

"Nay," Legolas replied, looking up and seeing that night was falling. the two comrades had been to as far as the Misty Mountains this journey for 'buisness,' and now they were coming back, to Mirkwood this time. Lively troops of Orcs had been spotted. Halbarad and many of the Grey Company had gone southeast, where a larger group of Wargs and Orcs had been reported. Legolas and Aragorn had gone to making this trip alone, for they would be less easily detected. The Orcs had been easy to take care of; as they had lost their two leaders over a squabble and slightly lost and clueless in their intentions. The Elf and the Ranger had caught them off guard, while finding out that they had been planning to attack the Dwarves. After their gold, no doubt. "I wish it, though. To see the _Norgaran_ for just brief seconds - it might be as well as gazing on the Fangorn Forest for years."

"Perhaps you will see one some day, _mellon nin,_" Aragorn said, but it was only meant lightly.

The night grew colder, and a small fire was attempted. Legolas, who could light a fire even in the snow, had quickly sprung up a flame with the dead firewood. Although he was scarcely touched by the cold, he was rather thinking of the _Adan_ beside him. It was rather a cold night, Legolas admitted, feeling more of the cold than he usually did.

As they opened a pack of lembas and drunk a sip of _miruvor_ - the Elven drink which warmed them a little - Legolas asked, half-grinning, "Cold night?" He packed away the _miruvor,_ which was almost frozen, and had to warm by the fire and spurt away a little icy water from the flask before drinking.

Aragorn shot a glance at the Mirkwood Elf. "It--" he glared, his teeth chattering, "is colderr than most nights. -- And I -- am a Human. You -- are an Elf."

"So I've noticed. Get your cloak around you firmer, Dunadan. Otherwise you'll get a fever." Aragorn shot him another glance, but it was not hostile -- rather, the mocking boredness of the routine. _Healers make the worse patients,_ Legolas reflected. It was probably true. "We probably should hunt for our rations now. It is almost running out, and so are the lembas."

"Aye," Aragorn nodded. "Let me shoot the first arrow. -- I need to move around my body, and -- anyway, you know you will manage to shoot the beast at first shot." Legolas acknowledged that by a grin. Elves did not hunt much, and if they did, only if it was necessary, and not for lesiure. "Fowl or beast?"

"Fowl, let's say," Legolas said. "Much harder to hunt. At least in your case." But it wasn't said that they couldn't enjoy it slightly meanwhile.

Aragorn glared at Legolas once more and raised himself to his feet. Lean and tall, he took out his Ranger bow, notched it with an arrow, and left the campsite. One fowl would be enough for tonight and tomorrow, and it was not far until the halls of Mirkwood.

His night vision sharper than most, as he had the Numenor blood in him and had been trained by both Elves and Rangers, he scanned the following area. As it was winter, no beast scampered around, but a few birds would be flying around this time of night. Birds sometimes had a tendency to wake up at the middle of the night, hunt or eat, and then go back to their slumbers.

There. Atop on a tall tree - it was hard to tell in the dark, but it seemed to be oak - there lay a bird. It was slightly bigger than an owl, and Aragorn, straining his eyes, could not tell what it was as it was lying in the shadows. He drew his bow and shot.

There came a terrible, heart-wrenching cry.

Legolas, back at the campsite, heard the cry clearly enough. Running lightly over the snow, his keen ears directed him to where Aragorn stood unmoving, slowly staring at the carass in front of him. Legolas closely examined it, and even though he had not seen one before, he knew what it was. With a cry he turned to the striken Ranger.

"Alas, Aragorn!" he cried. "What have you done?" He kneeled and leaned over the bird, all the while savoring its beauty, yet just wondering why it had not done what it was supposed to do. Not yet. Yet moments passed, and the moment in which the event was to take place had passed. Legolas knew that from the tales. He knew, yet under what circumstances it had been sent to the Halls, he did not know.

"Alas, Aragorn!" he repeated again. "What did you do? What have you done?"

But the Dunadan just stood there, staring at the brilliant, yet slightly fading feathers on the snow.

To Be Continued


End file.
